To Be Your Equal
by Xtremis
Summary: Merlin swallows thickly, revisiting the vision again. He sees the battlefield and the final blow. The cruel smirk on Mordred's lips and the dead stare in his eyes. He feels sick. And this is how a destiny begins to change.
1. Destiny

The changing of a destiny starts like this;

The King and his knights and Merlin are on a routine investigation into a lead on Morgana. The castle they are pointed to is old and weathered and as much a ruin as her previous hideaways. There is no sign of her being there currently, but there are signs of previous occupation and quick clearance. They split up, and Merlin finds himself in the group with the newer knights. With Mordred.

Arthur sent him off with a pointed stare and Gwaine made a crack about keeping the duckling in line. Mordred took the lead and Merlin followed at the back. Everything seemed normal until the third corridor. A loose stone sent one of the knights stumbling into a wall and started a chain reaction of events, beginning with the crumbling of the wall and ending with Merlin and Mordred trapped in a side room in the floor below.

What starts as an argument about using magic to escape escalates, as many of the interactions between the two so often do, into an argument about what Mordred truly wants in Camelot.

And this is how a destiny begins to change.

(())

"All I have wanted was to be considered your equal! To be considered worth your time!" The scream is torn from Mordred's throat and Merlin's blood runs cold. The words are ones he is painfully familiar with, though he has never said them explicitly. And yet he is already laughing, even as he takes note of the wet shine to the druid's eyes.

"How can we ever be equal when you seek the death of the King I live to serve? You will never be my equal by any means. The only time I spend on you will be to stop your inevitable betrayal." His words are harsh, biting in their attempt to force Mordred to anger. Anger is easier to deal with than what Mordred is threatening to unleash. Anger would give him cause to scowl and glare and glower from afar for the next week or so. But the druid does the opposite of what Merlin wants, as he is prone to do these days.

Mordred flinches against the stone wall, as if Merlin had physically hit him. His expression is raw, open in a way it hasn't been since he entered Camelot's walls and was deemed a knight. He seems to struggle for breath for a few moments, eyes fixed on Merlin's. Guilt pools in the warlock's gut, but he forces himself to ignore the acidic sting. He could not pity the man who would one day bring Arthur to his knees on the battlefield.

"All I have-," Mordred's voice breaks and he hiccups a laugh; an ugly, painful noise that makes Merlin want to look away, "All I have done was to get you to notice me. I came to Camelot for you, Emrys. Not for Arthur or some foretold future or for a destiny I don't want!"

And Merlin can hear the truth in the scream, even as Mordred's magic flares up, slamming him into the wall. He pushes back and breaks the hold easily, and Mordred laughs that painful laugh again, sliding to the floor like the fight has simply drained from him. Merlin watches, emotions and reason and logic and fact warring inside him in a battle to be the dominant driving force of his actions.

Silence falls for the moment, and Merlin watches with an almost detached horror as tears fall from Mordred's eyes.

"I grew up on stories of you, Emrys. Tales of the mighty warlock who would return magic to the lands once more." The silence is broken by Mordred's quiet words. The heels of his palms are pressed over his eyes, though the tear tracks linger on his pale cheeks. "And then I met you, and you were more than I could have hoped for; more than I _dreamed_ of. And you let me live. Where others would have killed me. You let me _live_." Mordred trails off, shaking slightly. Shame curls next to the guilt in Merlin's stomach.

"You were a _child_." Even as the words leave his lips they taste like ash. Like an excuse he barely means. Mordred doesn't react for a moment and then,

"So you will save the child yet condemn the man." It's not a question. The statement seems hollow, and Merlin swallows thickly, revisiting the vision again. He sees the battlefield and the final blow. The cruel smirk on Mordred's lips and the dead stare in his eyes.

He feels sick.

"I don't know what I'm doing." He laughs as he says it, sliding down the wall until he's seated on the ground like Mordred. They feel like the most honest words he's spoken in a long time and he doesn't know where they came from. He's just so tired.

The past years of his life have been one destiny fuelled action after another, to keep Arthur safe, keep Camelot standing, keep Morgana at bay, keep Arthur from knowing the truth, keep Arthur's view on magic as neutral as possible, keep Arthur's enemies at bay, keep Arthur from becoming cruel and jaded. Arthur. Arthur. Arthur.

And Merlin loves him. Loves him like a brother, like a vital part of his own being, loves him almost like he loves his magic. But there is only so far love will go to keep oneself sane. There are times when all that Merlin wants is to scream until he is hoarse that he has magic. When Merlin wants to tell Arthur the truth, tell Camelot the truth and have it be known that magic can save people. Has saved people.

But each time he thinks he might be able to Morgana appears with a new scheme, or a mercenary group attack outlying villagers using magic to help. And he can't. He can't tell Arthur of his magic after such ill fortunes.

There's a smile on his lips now, but it feels wrong, twisted somehow. He can't bring himself to care. Mordred's eyes are still hidden and Merlin watches a spot on the wall above his right shoulder. If he doesn't think too hard he can pretend he's talking to himself, as if Mordred isn't in the room to hear his darkest secrets.

"Kilgharrah wanted me to kill you. Wants me to kill you. Destiny. Fate. Wanted you dead several times over." Broken sentences are the best he can do. He's never given voice to these words before, has kept them locked away in the far corners of his mind. Mordred is frozen now, the shaking stopped. "I said no. That you could change. Would change. With second chances. I didn't like the sound of destiny. Or Fate. Fought them. For too long I suppose. Arthur was my destiny. Is my destiny. And you are his doom. And he shall be his downfall. Whichever happens first. Destiny doesn't care much."

"Why?" It's a barely spoken word, breathed out on an exhale. It could be questioning any of his previous words but Merlin doesn't ask for elaboration. He saw when Mordred's shoulders tensed.

"Destiny. Vision from seers who meddle. Who die. Are dead. You kill him. Arthur. And I can't stop it. Kilgharrah says I should have killed you. But you were a child. Small. Young. I remember my mother used to make excuses, fanciful and believable both when I was that old. Merlin has too much energy. Merlin's got an eye for decoration, the plate didn't match. All to stop people recognizing my magic. But you were young and secure and I. I wanted you to have that security. Knowing your magic was known and wouldn't be betrayed."

Merlin pauses. His thoughts wander for a moment before returning with startling clarity.

"Destiny became everything I suppose. Make sure Arthur can fulfil his. Make sure Arthur lives to fulfil his. Make sure Arthur, Arthur, _Arthur_." A bitter edge has crept into his voce so he stops, breathing deep and looking to Mordred once more. The druid watches him openly, eyes wide. He swallows once, twice before he can speak.

"Why are you telling me this?" Merlin shrugs, watching the way light from a shuttered window plays against Mordred's hair.

"I'm tired of destiny."

They're found nearly an hour later, the trail a dead end. The journey back is filled with good natured ribbing from the other knights about getting trapped in a side room, and for the first time since Mordred's arrival in Camelot Merlin laughed along with the teasing in his presence.

(())

After that things… changed.

Not in a drastically noticeable way at least. The tension that used to grip Merlin's shoulders whenever Mordred was near fades, but since no-one had noticed the tension before it was simply dismissed as Merlin finally warming to the youngest knight. The tension didn't leave the warlock however; it simply found a new target.

Now there was a hesitance around Arthur. And sometimes, during meetings when everyone was beginning to get foggy and distracted by the grooves on the table, Mordred would glance at Merlin and the warlock would be watching Arthur. Except it wasn't the same as before. There was an edge to it that worried Mordred. And from what the druid had overheard during training breaks he wasn't the only knight to pick up on the change.


	2. Changes

Wow, can I just say I'm really surprised by the amount of people checking out this story? Because this was only meant to be a little something for my sister, and now… well, I hope this lives up to whatever all of you were expecting?

(Also how the hell do you write the knights?)

((Also updates might now always be this fast, I _am_ a uni student so that will have to take precedence over writing for pleasure but I will do my best not to leave it for too long.))

((()))

It becomes something of a talking point among the knights, during breaks in training or routine patrols. No-one can work out why Merlin has become more reserved in Arthur's presence. There are a few carefully worded enquires to Arthur, offhand comments about Merlin seeming more focused on his actual job than 'Arthur sitting', as they sometimes refer to it between themselves. Each one is met with a variation of the same response from Arthur, a shrug and a line about how Merlin is finally learning his place after all these years.

It doesn't sit right with the knights.

The newer knights don't quite understand why the original knights are so concerned. After all, Merlin is just a servant, isn't he? And the original knights can't refute this claim; Merlin _is_ a servant, even if they feel he is as good as one of them. They've all seen the lengths Merlin goes to in order to protect Arthur. Even the palace guards who've been there since Merlin's arrival, few though their numbers now are, have taken to Merlin, turning a blind eye if they see him sneaking about at night.

It's always been one of the unsaid things in the castle. Merlin cares for Arthur, despite how their interactions seem to refute this knowledge, and most, if not all, of his actions are taken to protect the young King.

If Merlin is distancing himself from the blonde what does that mean for his future?

(())

_Is something the matter Emrys?_

He probably shouldn't take as much satisfaction in the stumble his words cause the other, but one must take small pleasures where they can in Camelot. As it is Merlin throws a glare in his direction and Mordred's smirk only widens. It seems that Merlin is finally beginning to pay attention to his surroundings.

"You know, speech was developed for a _reason_." Merlin hisses at him, but there's a slight upwards tilt to the corner of his lips that lessens the sting of the words. Mordred shrugs, stepping closer and walking alongside Merlin as he continues on his way. There's a collection of armour pilled in his hands, Arthur's at any guess, dented here and there from the morning's training and streaked with dirt.

A weight settles in Mordred's stomach, a reaction to the unintended reminder that he ranks _above_ Merlin in the castle's official hierarchy. Where others would think twice about ordering him, a knight of the King, to do menial tasks to occupy his time no-one thinks twice about doing the same to Merlin, regardless of how much he has to have done for Arthur by day's end.

It's _wrong_.

But there's nothing he can do to change it, not without endangering the lives of all who Emrys holds close. Not without risking Emrys' opinion of him. Mordred sighs, gaze falling to the stonework below his feet. Becoming someone worthy of Emrys' attention and time takes more restraint than he ever imagined it would.

The sigh draws Merlin's attention from the careful balancing act he's in the middle of with Arthur's armour. He glances at Mordred, eyebrows drawing together at the pensive expression on his face.

"Is something the matter Mordred?" The young druid doesn't respond for a moment, though he bites at his bottom lip. Then he sighs, looking around the hallway to check that they are alone.

"There is some level of… concern among the knights and a few of the guardsmen." Merlin frowns, uncomprehending of the meaning behind Mordred's words. Mordred bites at his lip again, searching for a way to phrase his concern without insulting the man before him. He has a brief thought that life seemed easier when Emrys was painfully antagonistic toward him. "Others have noticed that you are more reserved in Arthur's presence and are beginning to question it."

Merlin tenses, a myriad of emotions flashing over his face. Anger first and foremost, that Mordred thinks this is a matter for him to concern himself with. Fear that the knights will realise, that all his hard work will have been for nothing. But there's also relief, this weird overwhelming sense of relief that Mordred came to _him_ before doing anything.

He takes a deep breath, fixes his grip on the armour before making eye contact with Mordred once more. The young druid looks worried, but meets Merlin's look head on. And that's what decided it for Merlin. Mordred told him that there was something going on. Mordred told him, and hasn't flinched away yet. Mordred wants to know what Merlin _thinks about this_.

"Help me get this downstairs and we'll talk about it there."

(())

A week passes before the knights have anything concrete to pin their concerns on.

(())

"Everyone ready?" The King pushes himself up in his stirrups and looks across the gathered knights. From his position beside Arthur's horse, Leon casts a look of his own across those present. He catches Percival's eye and they share a concerned look.

No Merlin.

"Merlin's not accompanying us, sire?" Arthur made an exasperated sound, settling back in his saddle.

"You know Leon you're the third person to ask me that so far. Merlin's a big boy now; he can handle a weekend by himself. Move out!" The blonde had turned to face the other knights with his last command, and as such missed the frown which crossed Leon's face. He wasn't going to deny that Merlin was capable; he had been privy to some of Merlin's more grand exploits in his time at Camelot. But Arthur and Merlin had practically become one unit in that time. Where Arthur was Merlin was sure to follow. Even when Arthur took the year to track down Morgana before her true nature was revealed the only one who accompanied him was Merlin.

That Merlin wasn't taking part in this hunting trip spoke of a drastic change in the dynamic of their relationship.

At some point in the journey out Percival and Elyan came up alongside Leon, and the trio rode in silence for a moment or two. Arthur was distracted with recounting one of his impressive feats to a few of the younger knights and the others respected the seniority of the three so they had some leeway for talking without being overheard. Elyan opened the conversation with an almost casual aside,

"You know, I could have sworn Merlin played a good part in _rescuing_ Arthur from that creature." Percival let out a laugh, even as Leon shook his head at the sheer lack of tact that Elyan sometimes possessed.

"That story wouldn't have quite the same cadence though, would it Elyan?" The dark skinned knight shrugged at Percival's question, eyes focused on the King's back.

"I don't think Arthur realises he's pushing Merlin away." Leon's words were measured, and stopped whatever comment Elyan was about to make in response. The two cast inquisitive looks at Leon. Said knight was focused on Arthur himself, eyes narrowed in thought. "I enquired about the lack of Merlin's presence before we set off. He felt that Merlin could survive a weekend alone." This gave the other two a pause for thought, their attention turning to Arthur once more. The blonde was laughing at some comment from the younger knights, revelling in the awestruck attention.

The three of them shared a thought; would _Arthur_ survive a weekend without Merlin watching out for him?

(())


	3. Conversations

One day I'll stop taking the piss out of the guards. Today is not that day.

In other news, this story is getting away from me. It was meant to be a really simple, few chapter story and now it's spawning into something which will not be put to rest. And don't even get me started on the tense changes in this story because I will start to cry. Each scene refuses to work in any other tense than the one I write them in first.

Also there are a lot of you taking an interest in this which… is amazing. And also a tiny bit terrifying because, wow, there are a lot of people I need to satisfy.

But I hope this chapter lives up to any expectations you may have. Next chapter will not be for a while as I've recently been given a lot of coursework to get done for mid-November, so next chapter will probably come out around that time.

As always feedback is greatly appreciated.

**((()))**

Mordred was coming off his shift in the guard rota, the sun beginning to rise at the edge of the horizon. The king and a good part of the knights had left the previous day on a hunting trip, and the castle was quieter without their presence. It was a nice change; however there were a few things which plagued Mordred's thoughts that morning.

The king had left Emrys behind. He was doing a rather good job of not seeming all that fussed about the change in routine, but Mordred could tell that the slight hurt him. It wasn't a simple matter of being passed over for accompanying the king on the trip. It was so much more than that now.

Emrys was beginning to realise how much he was worth, _without_ Arthur at his side. Mordred would like to say that he was the catalyst for this realisation, but he couldn't in good faith do such a thing. That would be disrespectful to the struggles Emrys had gone through over the past years. Emrys was always going to realise his own worth, Mordred's confession had only acted as one of many stepping stones bringing him closer to this realisation.

As he stepped down from the parapet along the castle walls Mordred thought back to the conversation he had with Emrys a little under a week ago. Oh yes, there was no way that Emrys would doubt his own self-worth any more.

(({

_"What do you make of Camelot?" The two are still making their way downstairs and the question throws Mordred off balance for a moment. He goes to respond, but then pauses, thinking over his answer more thoughtfully. Merlin allows him this time, watching him out of the corner of his eye._

_"Camelot is… changed from my last memories. Whether the change is positive or not I have yet to find out however." Mordred's words are spoken with a careful sense of hesitance, but they are spoken truthfully. He remembers their conversation in the destroyed room. The truth, no matter how hesitant, will be the way to win Emrys' trust. _

_"The changing of a King will change much in a court." Emrys' words would have been much more biting a few weeks ago, but now there is a subtle tease. "But not enough." The warlock sighs, coming to a stop and gesturing with a nod towards the closed door. _

_Mordred steps forward and opens it, holding it for Emrys and then pulling it shut after him. He stays silent as Emrys lays out Arthur's armour, but cannot contain his gasp as the warlock calls upon his magic to begin the cleaning and polishing of said armour. The feel of such powerful magic is heady in the small room. _

_Emrys looks over at the gasp, a smile beginning to curve his lips. It falters as he recalls their conversation and he sighs once more, leaning against the table and gesturing for Mordred to seat himself. The young druid does so, keeping himself turned towards Emrys and waiting for him to resume the conversation. _

_He does so after a pause. _

_"Over the years, I have given Arthur advice on a whole range of actions and topics. And each time, he refuses to accept my advice without first running through a trial and error of every other piece of advice he can find." Here Emrys pauses again, seemingly searching for the words he wants to say. "I suppose my reservations around Arthur these days are due to a wish of having him come to me for my advice and taking it first." _

_Mordred's confusion must be palpable. Emrys lives in the shadow of a man who barely recognises the greatness he has the loyalty of. For how long this loyalty will last is beginning to become a rather prompt worry. _

_"I would like to say I understand but, I don't. However," Mordred continues when Emrys begins to frown, "I can see why you are more reserved in his presence. Are you aware of the reasoning Arthur is giving for this change in attitude?" _

_Emrys blinks at him, the idea that Arthur has an excuse already made stunning him to silence. Arthur thinks he knows the reason for his shift in behaviour? Mordred takes the silence as a cue to continue and glances to the ground as he does so. _

_"He says that you're finally becoming a half-decent servant who knows when to stay silent." It had been said in a form of jest during a training session where Merlin was not present. But every knight present had been able to detect the undercurrent of truth that meant Arthur truly believed what he was saying. _

_Emrys' magic flares to life in the room, almost choking Mordred with its intensity. It disappears as quickly as it came, the armour falling to the table as the warlock reins all his magic in. When Mordred works up the courage to look at Emrys once more he finds himself caught by his stare. _

_The breath catches in Mordred's throat, and he finds himself unable to look away. He is painfully aware of how easily he would let his shields down if Emrys gave his mind so much as a passing glance, but Emrys makes no move to do so. Instead he smiles a little. _

_"Thanks for coming to me with this." Mordred nods, the movement jerky and Emrys _laughs_, the sound causing a flush to rise in Mordred's cheeks as he ducks his head. The other's magic picks up again, a soothing hum flooding the room and a pleased weight settles in Mordred's stomach at the thought that he had something to do with getting Emrys to this stage of happiness once more. Emrys lets out a soft noise and Mordred looks up again. Emrys is still smiling, though it looks a little wistful. _

_"Arthur has been the focus of my destiny for so long I feel I've forgotten who I am." He turns to look at the armour floating above the table and cleaning itself. His smile strengthens, becoming less wistful and more confident. "But I think I may be beginning to remember."_

}))

Gwaine strolled through the town, an easy smile on his lips at the relaxed nature of the people around him. It was nice being somewhere that people felt comfortable around their town. He continued on his walk, pausing every now and again to engage in conversation with the townsfolk who recognised him as a knight of Camelot even in his civilian clothing.

While he may not spend that much time in the market area of Camelot, it never hurt to garner good favour. One could get access to the bedrock of many rumours via the market if you knew who to ask. He had been called over by one of the tradesmen for an offering of thanks, for help repairing his stall after the last battle inside Camelot's walls, and had managed to steer the conversation in the direction of any new rumours.

The current one he was being told had to do with the local opinion of the King and his guardsmen. Keeping an eye on the rumours and attitudes towards these two groups of Camelot was always recommended, especially when the King was away. And with the majority of the Round Table Knights away with the King for the week the bulk of the responsibility fell to Gwaine, so that he could report in upon the hunting party's return.

"You know the young one, dark hair and wears that neckerchief?" Gwaine nodded, an image of Merlin coming to mind. The townsfolk always had a good word or two to say about the young servant.

"Well, he was down here the other day, getting ingredients for what I couldn't tell you. But he was getting this list complete, kind as you like, stopped to speak to the little ones, paid a little extra even when offered a discount, because the kid is a kind soul; never let anyone tell you any different. And then one of the guardsmen came, not a knight like you, one of the men who wander around on patrols but never seem to stop anyone. Quick as you like he tells the boy that he's wanted back at the castle. And fair play, he said he'd be back as soon as he delivered his purchases.

"But the guardsman refuses to listen, tells the kid he'll take the purchases, but the King wants to see him immediately. And that struck the group of us as a bit strange you see. Because the King must have more than the one servant working for him. He's the _King_. And we've seen the way he treat the poor boy. Had half a mind to jump in there myself and stand up for the kid."

Gwaine frowned as he listened to the tale being recounted. It did sound a bit odd to his ears. While he knew that the King and Merlin were closer than a typical manservant and his King would be, the King would never call for Merlin in such a way as that. When Merlin was doing errands Arthur tended to ignore the dark haired youth. And if this had been a few days ago, it must have been just before the hunting trip set off.

The hunting trip to which Merlin had not gone along.

"Huh, well that is a bit odd now isn't it?" The curly haired knight responded. The tradesman nodded emphatically and Gwaine straightened from his lean on the side of the stall. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I see the guardsmen. And I'll ask Merlin about it; make sure nothing strange was going on."

"Oh no, sir! You don't have to go that far, I just wanted someone to know, just in case…" The tradesmen seemed surprised at how seriously his worries were being taken and Gwaine offered a friendly smile as he stepped away.

"It's no trouble. It's a part of my job as a knight to see that the worries of the people are dealt with on time. In fact I'll head back up to the castle now and see if I can't find a guard or two to talk it out with." Gwaine went on his way with a cry of thanks following him. As he turned a corner toward the castle he felt his jovial expression slip into one of a more contemplative nature.

There was something strange happening. The King would never usually send a guard to send for Merlin particularly, and it had been quite some time since Arthur left the walls of Camelot without Merlin at his side.

These concerns did nothing to ease Gwaine's memories of the growing worries that the knights had talked of prior to the hunting trip. It seemed that as Merlin became more comfortable around Mordred he became less so around the King. He would have to talk to Merlin about that. But first, to the guards. After all, he had given his word to the tradesman.


End file.
